[mp] the sparkling fir, the silver snow [open]

sunday 21 december 2003 | yule ball

The main downside to one’s two best friends being in other houses was that somebody always had to arrive at the meeting place first. Today, Elsa was first, and it was only her fear that the other two would head into the dining hall without her that had stopped her from being intentionally last. She stood beside the grand fir in the atrium, watching couples and other groups of friends meet up. She spotted @Léon and almost engulfed herself in the branches in an effort to not be seen in return -- fortunately, he seemed otherwise enchanted by a girl in a bright fuschia gown.

Elisabeth had started getting ready early, giving herself plenty of time to get the curls in her hair just right, the way Manon had taught her. She had made sure to ask for a new dress early in the term, in case her Oma’s guilt waned the longer Elsa wasn’t present in the house to remind her, and it had worked: for the first time she had a brand new dress for the ball. It was pale blue and off the shoulder, with a tulle overlay, and many tiny embellishments to catch the light.

After another minute passed, Elsa saw @Séverin descending the staircase with none other than her roommate Noémie on his arm. She had known the other girl had a date for the ball--she hadn’t shut up about it the entire time they’d been getting ready (in reality, she’d mentioned it once or twice)--but Elsa hadn’t realised she was coming with Sévérin.

Fortunately, at the same moment her eyes met Sévérin’s across the foyer, someone tapped her shoulder to distract her.



@Manon Bernard @Adèle Appel + open

Noémie Carpentier

Noémie had blinked once, slow, green eyes full of confusion when Sévérin asked her to the Yule Ball. It had seemed odd, but Marcus Lavoie had rejected her only two days before and she already had the dress sent to the school, so of course, it only made sense to say yes. She had been careful not to mention who her date was with the other Ombrelune girls - it wouldn't do to upset Elsa so early in the night, even if (as she suspected) Sev had chosen her specifically to get under the other girl's skin.

All the better. Noémie was to graduate soon and move to America - there was never a better time to start something than right before leaving the continent.

She reached her hand out languidly to Sévérin as they reached the stairs, her other hand (perfectly manicured in a sparkling black and silver) smoothing down the green satin of her strappy dress. Her locs were pinned up into an twist, held in place with a serpentine hairpin. Snakes were a theme with Noémie - the one braclet on her wrist was an obsidian bangle of a snake wrapping itself around her wrist, and the earrings she had on were similarly twisted shapes in black and gold.

From the top of the stairs they had a view of the hall that was unparalleled - Noé took a moment to survey the situation before putting one foot down. Across the room, Lael (her older brother, though a quirk of the calendar put them in the same year at school) was only glancing her direction, seemingly preoccupied with pining his locs back into place and entertaining the Bellefeuille on his arms. Noémie allowed herself a little smirk. Not so overbearing, for once. Glance back in front of them - Oh. Elsa. It was hard to make out all the nuances of the other girl's expression from here, but the furious flash of shock across her face was unmistakable.

Noé glanced over at her date, brows furrowing her perfect makeup for a moment. His gaze was trained on Elsa too. Noé resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Do you want to ignore her or no?" She asked eventually, her tone smooth and soothing. "I don't mind either way."

The neckline sunk far lower than she’d ever worn, and the bodice wasn’t even boned as far as Manon could tell, but she still felt more secure in her magically sewn gown than any she’d ever put on in a muggle shop. That was proof enough for her that witches had their uses. She’d smoothed her hair with a potion more effective than anything on salon shelves. Calmed every angry red bump from forehead to chest in a matter of minutes. Eyeliner and mascara always went alright when she could effortlessly wipe away the smears afterward. She’d finally found a blush in an owl order catalogue that promised to be sweat-proof.

But she had made a few concessions. Even magic couldn’t help her make eyeshadow look good. And she’d tried what felt like a hundred of them over the years, but it couldn’t make living with lipstick on any more realistic for her either.

No matter how possible any of it was, of course it was all an unnecessary effort. Surely the boys were spending no more time than it took to toss on their dress robes and perhaps brush their hair. Manon did find all the worrying about how she might look bothersome, but following the steps of dressing up was somehow peaceful. It felt like constructing something. And tonight, she was proud of the result.

Manon began descending toward the atrium, skirt in hand on the steps. She couldn’t help wondering what Donna from camp would think. Probably had liked her better frizzy-haired in a sweatshirt. Donna hadn’t seemed to have much interest in elegance. It was one of the many things about her that Manon had sort of envied, but not enough to imitate.

She’d thought the same of Elsa Sturm not long ago too, though, and now here she was glittering by the tree. “Wow,” said Manon. “It’s even better than I imagined.” They and Adèle had looked through catalogues together, but even a moving photo wasn’t the same as seeing a dress in real life.

Elsa was looking back at the stairs and Manon followed her gaze, hunting for Adèle. But Elsa seemed distracted by Sevérin and his date.

“Don’t tell me you’d rather that was you,” said Manon, with a flat sort of sigh.

Despite evidence to the contrary, Séverin hadn’t picked Noémie as his date just to get under Elsa’s skin. In fact, it was quite the contrary. He picked Noémie because he thought she was smart, pretty, funny. She wasn’t as interesting to him as Elsa, in all honesty, but she was the closest he could find to someone he liked, and he had been spending more time with her as of late. He and Elsa had been icy, and Séverin was trying his best to move on. He was lonely now, lonelier than he ever was before Elsa, and looking for an intelligent girl to challenge him and keep him on his toes. He liked Noémie. He wanted to see where things went with her.

Of course, she was Elsa’s roommate. How could he avoid that? He preferred Ombrelune-type girls. He preferred girls his own age. Of course, that meant she would know Elsa. He wasn’t intentionally trying to make the quidditch captain jealous, though admittedly he knew this would and was secretly a little tickled by it.

“Yes, let’s ignore her.” He said carefully, looking at Noémie a little closer. “You look very… beautiful tonight.” He offered. “I hope you know I didn’t ask you here to make her upset.” He offered, though it likely wasn’t convincing. “I wanted to be here with you. Let’s head in?” He offered carefully. “We could dance if you like?”

Noémie Carpentier

Séverin wanted to ignore her. Noémie shrugged, small. That was fine with her, though she wasn't convinced by his tone of voice that this meant Sév did not care if Elsa was staring at them or not. She shifted, turning to face her date in three-quarters profile and so Elsa, down at the base of the stairs, could see her lean in closer to the Quidditch co-captain's ear. "Thank you," she said softly. She knew she looked amazing, but it was good to hear Séverin say so.

 I hope you know I didn’t ask you here to make her upset, he said in a thoroughly unconvincing tone. Noémie shrugged again. "I wouldn't mind much if you did," she replied, blunt though her tone was kept liltingly light. "But I am glad to be at the center of your attentions tonight." She took his arm. "I think a dance would be lovely."

The walk down the staircase was long, time stretching out as they moved through all the other couples attempting to make a grand descent. It was unfortunate that those only worked in plays. When they finally reached the bottom, where Elsa had been joined by Manon Bernard in glaring in their direction. The dancefloor was, unfortunately, behind them.

Noémie strengthened her grip on Séverin's arm and promenaded them both past the other girls, Noémie keeping herself in between Séverin and Elsa. As they passed them, Noémie carefully slowed their walk. "Manon, you look beautiful tonight." The girl had finally found use for a hair straightening potion, it was clear. Noé met Elsa's eyes but said nothing, just raising the corner of her lips into the tiniest smirk.

Elsa turned to find the tap on the shoulder had been Manon, went to look straight back at Séverin and Noémie but— She did a double-take. The Papillonlisse wowed at Elsa’s dress but the German witch was too busy staring wide-eyed at her friend: her soft, smooth skin, long eyelashes, and— “Your hair,” Elsa exclaimed, almost reaching up to touch it before remembering herself. “You look—” The blonde blinked, her lips parted still in mild shock, “so pretty.” She hoped Manon wouldn’t take offence -- as if she wasn’t normally pretty (she was, but this was just… extra pretty).

It took the Ombrelune a moment to remember she had been glaring up the staircase at Séverin, but when she did her eyes immediately sought him out again -- he wasn’t hard to spot, like a giant beanpole at the top of the steps—

If she had thought Manon might believe she was looking for Adèle, Elsa might have pretended that had been the truth. “What?” she asked, glancing from the brunette back to Séverin and Noémie, trying to read their lips -- but it was impossible from this distance. She snapped her head back to Manon with a sharp “No—” but she wasn’t fooling her, apparently. Elsa exhaled through her nostrils. “Noémie didn’t tell me she was coming with him, that’s all,” she explained, and looked back up in time to see Noé lean into Sév.

“I’d rather actually enjoy my night,” Elsa said with a scowl, forcing herself to look away and back to Manon, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you think Adèle will be long?” she asked, making a point of scanning the half of the room on the side opposing the grand staircase.

Manon, you look beautiful tonight. Elsa turned her head and her eyes met Noémie’s. The other girl smirked and Elsa’s (not-manicured) hand tightened into a fist in the same moment she lurched forward— Manon’s fingers gripped around Elsa’s arm and tugged her in the direction of the dancefloor. Elsa let herself be swept away, hand-in-hand.

She squeezed the other girl’s hand as they slowed and let out a frustrated noise. “Sorry,” Elsa mumbled, pouting.

There was something about Noémie’s tone, her words and especially the way she walked right up to Elsa and Manon that made Severin think he made a mistake asking her here. He had never intended this to be a power play. He never meant to make Elsa jealous, at least not directly. He, of course, didn’t mind that she was jealous, but he had long-since given up on winning the beater back, and was trying to focus on finding someone to replace her now. Noémie seemed nice enough, but it seemed there was more to the story. She wanted to make Elsa angry. She wanted to bait her, and that was not at all what Severin had anticipated. Had she only agreed to go with him to upset her roommate? What a low blow that felt like. Would he never find anyone who truly enjoyed his company just for his company?

He eyed Elsa up as the girls spoke, feeling awkward and out of place. He wanted to compliment her on her finished and polished appearance, but he didn’t. He said nothing, to her or any of the other girls. As the girls pulled away to the dance floor, he furrowed his brow a bit. Perhaps he should ditch his date. Or, perhaps not. He didn’t know how to handle this.

“If you’re done baiting them, perhaps a dance?” He offered, words a little cold. “Or we can go snog in the corner, if you think that would piss her off more. I’m sure that’s what you’re really after.” He said, now more accusatory than anything else. He hesitated, then apologized. “Sorry, sorry. That was mean. I thought you came because you wanted to be here with me, not simply that you wanted to be seen here with me.” He grumbled.

Noémie Carpentier

Noémie saw Elsa lung and just managed to keep herself from flinching, only a quick widening of the eyes betraying her flash of fear. Ah, so that was just a bit too much for Elsa, then. Manon dragged Elsa away. Noé wondered how returning to the dorm would go tonight. By Morganne-Le-Fay, the Beater could clearly use a drink.

It would be entertaining, whatever was to come of that, Noémie decided as she turned to Séverin again. At some point Noémie had decided to actively not care what people thought of her, to stop twisting herself into knots to keep the peace, and it felt so much better to just do what she wanted like this.

Séverin, though, looked less than impressed. Sounded less than impressed, too, and Noé felt familiar urges to soothe and resolve rise up. Instead she blinked, slow, forming her mouth into a perfect little 'oh'. "I was just saying hello. I didn't mean to bait them. I'm not trying to start anything with her." Her tone was genuine, though the words weren't, laced with a hint of affected offence. "I do want to be here with you, Séverin. With you. Not just --" she patted his arm, squeezed a bit of muscle, "--seen with you." She paused, turning wide eyes to him. "If you tire of my company already, I'll disappear. But I would love to dance."

The corner of her mouth twitched upward again, and she drew closer to him. "And for the record, I wouldn't mind snogging in the corner, or --" Noé's eyes flicked downwards towards Sév's belt, just for a brief moment, "But not to piss off Elsa. I think that would be fun, if it were fun for you."

While Noemie’s response was polite and respectful, he could sense what was going on underneath her gentle words. She was annoyed, and good, Severin thought. She was making a mess of things, when he had only wanted a distraction. Things had been difficult with Elsa. There was a miscommunication there. Severin didn’t know what Elsa wanted or what she was thinking, but as far as he was concerned, the captain wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Why she had made him her co-captain was lost on him, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He missed the little things, the talking and banter in the hallways, picking on her, shoving her annoying face into closets to kiss it completely off, the usual things. 
 
As Noemie spoke, Severin felt himself stiffen, not just below the belt, but overall. People could just… do that? Without pretense? Without making it more than it was and without bantering on for several years until the unresolved sexual tension reached its maximum? He stared at her for a moment, a faint flush on his cheeks but it wasn’t so much an embarrassed blush as it was an angered flush. How had this never occurred to him, and how had she said it so plainly to him, even the glance down at his belt was not lost on him, though it thrilled him as it terrified him. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. Did he accept her offer, call her bluff? Or did he simply take her to dance. 
 
He stole a glance at Elsa, something that he knew wouldn’t be lost on Noemie, but he chanced it anyway. IF Elsa didn’t want their English Lessons anymore, perhaps it was time he found someone else who did. Maybe she didn’t have to be a girlfriend, she could just be a partner in crime. Perhaps that was all she wanted, and that was really all he wanted too. He was a man, thereabouts, and he had needs. He had tried to deny his hormonal changes as beneath him, but the physicality of it all seemed to allure him despite himself. After a rather pregnant pause, he hesitated, and raised a brow. 
 
“If that’s the case, why are we even here?” He wondered, looking at her. He tried not to look down from her eyes, but he was thinking of that glace to his belt and it was growing less terrifying and more interesting as time passed. “Let’s make an escape, if that’s alright with you. I think it would be fun for me, if it is for you.” 

Standing before one of the bathroom mirrors, Adèle blinked at her reflection. It wasn’t often at all that she wore makeup, or clothes that weren’t either her uniform or a pair of shorts and a t-shirt; and it was even less often that both of these were simultaneously occurring. The Bal de Noël was one of those times. There had been a near-tangible excitement in the air as the date drew nearer, and it was difficult not to feel swept up in the thrill of it all.

She’d decided to leave her hair natural, and attempted to wrangle it into some sort of up-do (she’d experimented with several over the past few days). She’d settled on what was essentially a glorified ponytail – but she’d fluffed up said ponytail (with a pump or two of potion to make her curls a bit shinier), with the finishing touch of several decorative stars.

Her gaze drifted downwards to linger on her dress. It wasn’t exactly winter-themed, and aside from the flowers it was very unlike her typical style (what with the lace and flattering cut, not to mention it was a proper dress) – but she was looking forward to wearing it nonetheless. She’d found it at a secondhand shop the same day she’d gone school-supply-shopping that summer (how was it December already?).
As for her shoes… she’d tried to give the strappy heels a chance (truly, she had), however after nearly rolling her ankle twice just traipsing to and from the bathroom mirror in a span of about fifteen minutes, Adèle had put her foot down (literally) and gone for the flats instead. The heels certainly looked prettier, but she couldn’t help but sigh with relief the moment they were off her feet. Plus, her idea of a fun night with her friends hardly began with her tumbling headlong down the staircase…

And about her friends – she’d lost track of time, and was about five minutes late to meet them.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Arriving at the top of the grand staircase, Adèle began her descent, scanning for her Elsa and Manon – and found them just in time to see what was clearly a tense exchange between Elsa and Séverin… and Noémie.
“Oh, no,” Adèle whispered sadly to herself. Seeing Séverin with another girl on his arm wasn’t likely to do Elsa’s mood any favors, and she was much too far away to hear whatever exchange had transpired. Thank goodness for Manon, who opportunely led their friend away.

Hurrying after her retreating friends (and exceptionally glad she had ditched the heels, after all), Adèle managed to catch up with them right at the edge of the dance floor.
“Sorry, lost track of time,” she murmured, pausing a moment to take in the full effect of her best friends. “Both of you are absolutely stunning! You are every day, of course, but extra stunning tonight.”

Adèle hesitated a fraction of a second, debating on whether or not to admit that she’d seen the exchange a few moments ago – then slipped her hand into Elsa’s free one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry about him – tonight is a girls’ night.”
She grinned, then, taking Manon’s free hand as well and gently leading both girls into a tandem twirl – though this was made more difficult as the shortest of the three of them and she wasn’t wearing heels.

Noémie Carpentier

Séverin straightened up, tensed every muscle, glancing over her head at Elsa, Manon, and finally Adèle as they were pulled away. Noémie resisted the urge to smirk. Boys! They were so predictable. If only Marcus had been so simple to pull into her palm. She scanned the room over Séverin's shoulder, looking at Leclerc where he was standing next to Laël and their dates.

Well, it wasn't as if Sév and Elsa were the only ones with romantic drama to work through. If Noé couldn't have Marcus, did that mean she couldn't have anyone? Was she supposed to just wait for the next eligible Black wizard to waltz through her life, use her, and leave her for a white girl again? It didn't seem fun, that. It didn't seem worth it, when anyone with eyes knew they would be lucky to have her.

Her brother looked over at her, frowning. Marcus followed suit, narrow eyes narrowing more before looking away, She felt a bit of a smouldering resentment in her gut, then, pushed it down to give Séverin her most charming smile. She reached for his wrist, delicately wrapped her fingers around it so her nails pressed lightly against his palm.

Why were they even here? "To dance, of course," she said sweetly. "Or at least, to be seen to dance." She pushed up onto her toes -- even in heels the boy was nearly a head taller than her -- to bring her mouth close to his ear. "One dance, then sweep me away."  The music was changing -- a Banshee song, Honey, if her memory was right. Her hand on his wrist tightened, just a smidgen, tugging Sév to the dance floor. "One, then we escape."

/out
 

“Thanks,” said Manon, smiling. She successfully suppressed the urge to contradict Elsa’s praise, but the irony had to be maintained: she flounced her skirt in a little facetious curtsy. “Took ages.”

Sevérin had arrived with Noémie Carpentier, who despite living with Elsa, had not told her this. Manon sighed again—what else could she do? “It won’t help to tell you to ignore them, will it?” she asked—but there was no chance of that either way. On their way past, Noémie made a point to compliment Manon (and not Elsa) in a voice that made her skin crawl.

“Uh, thanks,” she said helplessly.

When she was younger Manon had been interested in romance. She’d followed her friends’ drama, kept up with the going out and breaking up and flirting and whatever else attractive people did, supported whoever she needed to support. She’d watched from the outside and awaited the moment she’d be invited in. For that first moment when she’d feel like a real teenage girl, instead of just a child on the precipice.

Maybe if that had ever happened she’d have come to a different conclusion, but now she was sort of contemptuous of teenage romance. How lucky she’d been, to get through school without the gossip and the passive-aggression and the mind games! On top of all of her personal shit Manon really thought that might have done her in. She didn’t envy Elsa this stupid feud at all. “Come on,” Manon muttered, gripping Elsa’s arm and tugging her away before she punched Noémie in the face. “Christ’s sake, get a grip.”

Elsa, at least, apologized for almost starting a fistfight. “No problem,” Manon said quietly. “Joke’s on her, though, isn't it—she’s got to spend the whole night with him.”

Thankfully, Adèle appeared before she had to think of any other jokes. The mood lifted at once, as it always did whenever their Bellefeuille friend was around. “Thank you, thank you,” said Manon (was that sixty percent of what she’d said today?) and this time twirled so her purple velvet skirt could catch a little air. “You look great, too—I like your hair thingies—”

But Adèle had taken her other hand and swept them all into a whirling circle. Manon stumbled over her block heels and laughed aloud.

Romance and friendship were for her, of course, a pair of concepts she was still working to untwine. Most of the girls she’d ever befriended she’d also have happily kissed. She couldn’t imagine a romance without the steadfast support of a friend. Was there really anything different about the love she’d feel for a partner and the warm, effervescent love she was feeling right now as she looked to Elsa and Adèle?

Friends could be very much the same, with the jealousy and the heartbreak and the stress of it all. Manon knew that well by now. But, somehow--it felt more worth it to try.

Manon had led them as far as the edge of the dancefloor, though Elsa had no desire—especially now—to dance. She opened her mouth to say as much (and to point out that her grip was perfectly fine) just as Adèle joined them and diffused the situation with a shower of compliments.

At first the Ombrelune assumed their Bellefeuille friend had missed the almost-altercation with Noémie— then Adèle made it clear she had witnessed it. Elsa exhaled through her nose. “I’m not—” she began, before realising it was fruitless to pretend that seeing Séverin with Noémie hadn’t bothered her. It had, but she didn’t want to give Noémie (or Séverin) the satisfaction of ruining her night.

Adèle was right — tonight ought to be a girls’ night. Elsa nodded. “Yes,” she said simply in agreement, and was saved from having to say any more as they were pulled further onto the floor by the little Bellefeuille. The German grinned, rolling her eyes as she allowed herself to be spun, and laughed as they entangled themselves with one another, shoulders and upper arms colliding softly as they attempted their three-way twirl.

In her periphery, Elsa could see Noé leading Séverin to the dancefloor. She extracated herself from her friends if only to face them properly again, effectively turning her back on her housemates. She held her hands out for Manon and Adèle to retake; “Girls night,” she beamed.


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